First off, I apologize for not writing many recent events up. I resolve to be a better hash trash in the future, please don’t open season me.

Friday afternoon I arrived at the airport and nearly walked right past At Your Cervixxx. Luckily enough, she knows my nerd name and was able to stop me. We met up with Skanky in time to find out that our flight was delayed about an hour. Once we finally got on the plane, we got our drink on. Skanky was the alcohol angel and somehow managed to get a ton of booze on board in little bottles. The flight was only an hour long, yet Cervixx managed to get the number of the guy sitting in front of us, Chuck.

Once we landed in Tucson, we met up with my hash mama D-Cup and found out that our ride was running late. No problem, a couple of phone calls and Royal Flush (of Humpin’ Beermeister fame) was on his way to pick us up. He took us directly to a bar so we could get some grub and some beer before heading (!) over to the hash hotel. We checked in, got our gimmes, and shmoozed for a little while before going to the room to get ready for the Wild West Pubcrawl. As Deep Chocolate and I primped Shrimp Skanky and Royal Flush hung out on our patio and ran into Special Ed fron Vegas. This is the point in the trip where I had a minor mishap involving a sliding glass door. I was relatively unscathed and went on the pubcrawl anyway, like a trooper.

I wasn’t feeling very well on the pubcrawl, but still had fun. Thanks go out to Crouton and Anal Fission for checking in on me and getting me water at various points in the night. Also worth mentioning is Deep Chocolate’s awesome “best hands in the house” costume. I’d like to think that the fact that my boob glitter made it on 12 different faces (and the same one twice) is kinda interesting as well.

At about 2 am, the hashers were still rockin’ the hot tub, the police were nearly called, and Doc Anus and Gritty Kitty finally stumbled in. Turns out they got lost and ended up in a pretty bad neighborhood. Someone threw a shoe from a car window at Doc A, and the bunny was in bad shape. They went to another hotel and asked directions and were promptly told to “Fuck off”. Friendly folks.

Saturday morning started way too early. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s physically impossible to sleep past 8am in Tucson. I’ve never been able to manage it. I don’t know if it has something to do with the sun, the heat or the fact that they are just noisy wankers, but if you can sleep til 10am anywhere in Tucson, you are a champ.

At 10am the Ultra idiots r*nners took off on trail. Most were back quickly enough to join us on the regular trails. Not because they finished the trail, but because the trail finished them. I opted for the turkey trail (in 108 degrees) and 20 feet from the hotel was lamenting my decision. Anal Fission was the only one on the Turkey motivated enough to run, and we all pointed and laughed at him as we enjoyed a shade check in the 20 square centimeters of shade in all of Tucson. At the beercheck I loaded my bra with a couple handfuls of ice and was on my way. Sometime after that I caught up with At Your Cervixxx again and got a peek at her rear view via a hole in her run skirt. She tore it sliding down the concrete drainage ditch and was on her way to the hotel to change.

 Just when I was ready to scrap trail in favor of the pool, Richard Pierce rolls up in an airconditioned chariot of dreams. Ok, it was a rental car, but it looked like heaven to us. Deep Chocolate and I didn’t hesitate for one millisecond and jumped on in. We followed the pack the block and a half (d’oh!) to the finish in a park. We waited a long while for everyone to come in, folks that had left on the Ultra an hour an a half before we did came in 2 hours behind us. I lost track of time at that point, but lunch and beer was had by all.

Once everyone was in, we started Hash Olympics. Deep Chocolate and I watched from the relative safety of the swingset while hashers tried to pick up an olive from a block of ice, using only buttcheeks, crabwalk across the field and drop it in a martini glass. There were other games, but that’s the standout. Once the official competitions were over, we played “Bowling for Buttplugs!” Someone found a bowling ball on trail, and Executive Spread can always be counted on to have a 2 foot tall buttplug in her car, so we all took turns trying to knock the buttplug down with the ball from varying distances.

After an ice cream run, I joined the hashers partying at the pool. As Fatty put it “It’s like spring break with old people!”. That’s the most apt description I heard all weekend. We had pool toys, squirt guns, beer being brought to us by the tray and typical hash craziness. 

After the pool party, it was time for dinner and dancing. Steak was served for the carnivores and mushrooms for the herbivores, all the fixins were present and the beer was a-flowin’. Right after dinner the DJ started and the dance floor filled up. I joined a game of 3 man that was just beginning. 30 minutes later, when I tipped forward trying to retrieve something on the floor, I was shuffled off to bed to reprise my role as “Captain Passout”.

Sunday morning after breakfast, packing and checking out was the 11am pajama run. I shortcutted with a small group led by Charlotte the Harlot, who took us to a park with a playground and then to the beercheck. I heaped ice into my bra again, as the temperature was already over 100 degrees, and we set off. (Sidenote: There sure are a lot of parks in Tucson. Everytime I’m there I go to at least 3 and have never seen the same one twice…) We made it to the end, thanks to a little artificial information from the Beermeister (Thanks Granny Panties!) and had circle in the shade.

After circle, a group of us retired to El Mariachi for lunch, (you may remember it as the first bar of the pubcrawl, then again, many did not.) and followed that up with a pool party at Fatty/Deep Dish’s place. 25 hashers +1 and a half kegs= a really good time. I passed out in a bedroom for a little while (and woke up sharpie free!) and awoke to guitar and fiddle music outside. Gritty Kitty and Pity Fuck had graced us with a concert! I got thrown into Exec’s car with the rest of the San Diego contingent and we crashed at her place.

Monday morning, 8am, I’m awake. Dammit Tucson, you just don’t know how to cut a gal a break. It all worked out as we rocked a quick shower rotation and Ridin’ Zamboner picked us up to go to Mexico! We had birthday boy Shrimp Skanky with us, so we knew a good time was in store.

We met up with Papa Don’t Peek, Two Nice Tits, Is It In Yet?, and Testiculator –our friend from across the pond. (If you want to rile a Brit, call him Frenchie. You can’t buy that kind of entertainment. Make a note of it.) The first bar we went to (I still don’t know the name) was the same one where we set a car on fire in October. We had some lunch and margaritas and rocked on over to the next bar, Senor Amigo’s. We got the balcony (which didn’t seem all that sturdy to me) all to ourselves and Skanky got the birthday treatment which included being hit over the head (!) repeatedly.  Once he had at least a mild concussion and we’d had enough alcohol to kill a goat we shambled to the strip club.

About 6 minutes after we entered Shrimp Skanky was on his way downstairs for a private dance with a stripper and a harriette (Abu Grab Me). I don’t know what happened down there, I don’t want to know what happened down there, all I can say is that he came back with a smile and 23 dollars poorer. That’s not even the highlight of our visit! That came about a half an hour later when the dude in charge (club promoter? pimp?) put a chair on stage and ushered the birthday boy into it. There was so much grinding and placing of hands in interesting regions that I wanted a lysol shower afterward, and I was just watching!

We stumbled across the border, making sure we called the British guy “Frenchie” about 6 times in front of Border Patrol, and questioning the validity of his passport at high volume. Papa’s passport got the most scrutiny, prompting me to say “He wants to know who the fat guy on your passport is!” The Limey got through no problem, but Cervixxx got randomly selected to play 20 questions as we all freaked out on the U.S. side of the border waiting for her.

We rushed to the airport and made it there at 6:30pm for our 7:10 flight, only to be informed that it had been delayed until 8:40. With one phone call, Ridin’ Zamboner whipped around and picked us back up and we had dinner. Executive Spread met us at Finnegan’s, which seemed way too nice for the likes of us.

We got back to the airport at 8, found out our flight was delayed another 10 minutes and I played “Captain Passout” yet again, on uncomfortable airport seats and using my backpack (filled with my mug and hairbrush and other sharp objects I wasn’t aware I’d packed) as a makeshift pillow. The flight was super quiet as D-Cup, Skanky, Cervixxx and I passed out the moment we were off the ground and only woke up when they announced final approach. Lacy Bitch Britches picked Skanky and I up at the airport and we regaled him with tales of our weekend. To which he replied “Dammit, next time I’m going with you, I missed too much fun!”

On on to recovering before work tomorrow,
~Here 2 Get Laid

UpCumming Events:
6/27-29 Humpin’ Campout
7/12 jHavelina RDR (Tucson)
8/15-17 Larrikin Campout in Mexico
8/15-17 Bisbee RDR